User blog:AvengeThem!/The Dark Empire
Epilogue Like a disease, the empire had rose from a small start and had gone on to conquer the land. Vafír Silvertung, fox warlord of the south, had grown ambitious, and gathered vermin. He was sly, persuasive, and disciplined. He gathered raggedy bands of foxes and rats, then had them trained by himself and the few he found competent enough. Though they were small, they became strong, loyal, skilled, and smart. After years of gathering and training rats, weasels, stoats, ferrets, and foxes, his ambitions widened. He traveled to Drev Malki, fortress of wildcats, that had ruled the souther vermin. He had made a meeting with their leader, the fierce Zarvil Deathpaw, and killed the wildcat in a duel when the cat refused to submit to him. He then forced the wildcats to obliterate their own castle that they had so recently built. And it went so forth. All vermin of the southlands had gone from weak, undisciplined, stupid, foolhardy, and self-absorbed to strong, powerful, disciplined, smart, sly, and immensely loyal to one. Vafír Silvertung. They had farms were the weaker vermin or their broken slaves worked at, feeding the massive army. The empire had expanded to islands, and had dominated the land. Vafír decided who lived or died, and now his ambitions were set northward. He called his second in command, Darkblood the rat, to his study at his castle, Cruor Mors, previously called Floret when some foolish squirrels ruled the land. "What lies to the north?" asked the fox. Darkblood looked upon his master. Vafír was white, like a bleached bone. His eyes violet, and stared into your soul. He was dressed in a scarlet tunic that, laced with gold, and had no scars. No blade had ever come close enough. The fox was undersized, but Darkblood knew his mind was sharper and his sword skills mightier than any in the land. But the fox knew better than to kill his subjects. He punished them to the farms until they were stronger and more disciplined. All of his soldiers must be the best of the best. And Darkblood was the best of the best of the best. "Lord, to the north is the forest of Mossflower, and that traveling gang of foxes say their is an abbey full of peaceable woodlanders, but many vermin have tried to conquer, and all failed. Furthermore, the mountain of Salamandastron is north, and Lord Brawblade Wildstripe is sympathetic with the abbey, and less fond of vermin. His army of hares are fierce fighters, even though we outnumber them. But there is still the fact of those who thought they could defeat them. You know the most famous of them. Cluny the Scourge, Ferrahgo the Assassin, Ruggan Bor, his descendants are with us, actually–" "I know the names, Darkblood. More than you probably. Slagar, Razzid, Gulo, and more, and I know they failed," Silvertung said. Then grinned slyly, "But you know how I love a challenge." Chapter One Run. Don't stop running. Just run. At the moment, the thoughts of Magdrin Oaksword was directed on his escape. He had been powerful and smart, but not smart enough to see the truth. And his consequence was a sentence to slavery. The squirrel had been put to work because of his foolhardy ideas. They aren't so foolhardy, he thought. Bludbeard was a good egg. Magdrin was a powerful and young squirrel warrior and camo expert, but he was also a philosopher and smarter than most thick-skulled warriors. He had an idea. For a long time he wondered what was it with the vermin always being so cruel, why the other creatures more willing to do good. He had heard of good creatures before that were vermin, but still... His mind reeled has he recalled his memories. The vermin camp had a score of villains,, with many rats, and a scattering a ferrets, stoats, weasels, and few foxes. They were led by a fox called Yellowfang, who was the greediest, ugliest, and cruelest of the pack. Magdrin, in the pose of a weasel named Coldeyes, joined the thugs a week earlier. "Yah, give it 'ere," shouted a rat as he tried to pull a bird carcass from a fat weasel. "Hah! Yer own mother wouldn't feed yer ugly face," retorted the weasel as he yanked the carcass back and sunk his greenish teeth in it. A runtish, white-furred fox was carefully roasting a quail over the fire. He had carefully plucked all the feathers from, for which he had time to do so. He was the best archer of the gang and had made it back to camp quickly, but took care in roasting the bird. He gagged as he saw the portly weasel tearing at the bird. Magdrin, not being able to stomach it either, walked over to the fox. "You're not getting my food," if that's what you want," said the fox without looking at him. He pulled the bird from the fire and set on piece of flat slate, then began cut it with a perfectly maintained knife. He picked the pieces and put them in his mouth, seeming satisfied. "What do you think of the group?" asked Magdrin, this fox certainly seemed the sanest of the lot. The fox looked at him. The violet eyes pierced his soul. "I think they're idiots. Something inside us pulls us vermin to kill and plunder. We don't have much thinkers. Though, as a squirrel you don't have it, all of us do." Magdrin gaped. "How–" "Shh," the fox placed a paw over Magdrin's mouth. "Not one other knows except for those three," he paused and pointed at red-furred weasel with a bushy beard, a one-eyed stoat, and completely black and scarred rat. "and we can trust him. We're the thinkers, the few vermin you'll ever meet. I'm Vafír Silvertung, the weasel is Bludbeard, the stoat is Deadeye, and the rat is Darkblood. I knew what you were and what you were doing the moment you came here, and I think you can help us break the pull. We leave tonight." The memories went to later on. Vafír's sword was at Magdrin's throat. They were beside a river, Darkblood was behind Magdrin, his footpaw on the one who had stayed on Magdrin's side, Bludbeard, and Magdrin's sword in his paw. They clearly knew how to fight, but Deadeye was obviously only a thinker, and not much of one at that, and didn't know how to hold a sword. He were nursing their wounds inflicted by themself or Magdrin. Bludbeard had tried to defend Magdrin, but was like deadeye, and had dropped his sword on his foot. "You lied to me," said Magdrin, through gritted teeth. "Not at first, but I realized my greed for power and the dark pull inside was too strong. You can't tame darkness." "I tamed Bludbeard." The fox's smile faltered for a second. "Yes, unfortunate that he must join you on the journey to the Dark Forest. He's quite smart, and had a lot of potential." Magdrin frowned. He'd been in tough scrapes before, but he didn't know how to get out of this one. He could take a risk, or die. He obviously didn't want to die. He let himself fall backwards, than dodged to the side with the grace only a squirrel could maintain, and leaped backwards, shoving Darkblood back into the river, and grabbed his sword from the rat's grasp. Darkblood swam swiftly to the otherside, knowing what would happen if he got caught in the river's strong current. Bludbeard picked his sword off the ground and charged Deadeye, as Silvertung charged Magdrin. "Foolish!" shouted Vafír, as he stabbed at the squirrel, but the usually cautious fox had misjudged his attack, and went careening into the river, swimming to join Darkblood. Bludbeard and Deadeye were still dueling clumsily, so Magdrin stabbed the stoat in the back, and pulled the weasel to follow them, as they tried to run, leaving Silvertung glaring malevolently out of his violet eyes. Eight seasons later, Vafír had personally hunted down Magdrin and Bludbeard, then put them to slave away, doing the most difficult of labor. After a foolish slave captain told the squirrel to run up the tree to harvest it, Magdrin took the opportunity and fled. He jumped through the trees until he was deep in the forest. Then for the first time in over a score of seasons, he was finally free. Chapter Two Old Uggo and Posy Wiltud were the most ancient creature at Redwall Abbey. Their children were now fathers and mothers, and they still remembered how Razzid Wearat had threatened the abbey. They had seen friends come and go, and had both experienced positions of high privilege, Uggo became abbot and Posy became champion, but both became too old and had retired to manage the Redwall Archives. Chubbo, their grandson, and portly hedgehog dibbun, was sleeping on the archive floor. Uggo was reading Seasons of the Savage and Posy reading about how Martin's journey before when he lived in the north. "Alas," remarked Posy, "I wish I was young enough to travel up north and see Marshank." Uggo chuckled. His wife was always fiercer than him. She wanted to see Marshank, while wanted to visit Noonvale. She wanted to see the waterfall where Gulo's horde fell, he wanted to eat the Guosim's food. "Ye hope to see another adventure?" "Aye, but the adventure'd come here. I can't travel anymore." "Well, I ain't hopin' for that. Would mean the abbey's in danger. Though I would like to get a feat that's half as good as slaying Razzid Wearat!" "Jum helped me." "Ye were no more than a dibbun. Astonishin', truly! But as it is, I'm hoping he doesn't come back to life. I would like to win that feat, but I'm hoping I don't get the chance." "Well I'm hoping for an adventure. Just a chance to do another great thing." "Ye just might, Posy m'dear. I don't hope, but ye just might." Uggo had no idea how correct he was. Chapter Three Twenty ranks, each with a score of vermin. Wildcats, foxes, stoats, weasels, ferrets, and rats. They marched forward through the forest, obliterating the lower foliage. At the back of the ranks were the leaders. Vafír Silvertung, Darkblood the Rat, a few generals such as a wildcat called Bladefire, an expert tactician Vafír had promoted to third in command, a pine marten called Zäev, and a warlord from farther south that was forced to submit to Vafír after they dueled weaponless, resulting Vafír forcing him to knock a tree down, nearly crushing the wolverine, Umbro had joined Vafír. And while the wolverine was the dumbest of the horde, Vafír could not deny his impressive strength. Category:Blog posts Category:Fan Fiction